


You Told Me What You Think

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Demon and Angel Professors [127]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26932150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: "Did you find out why she wanted to talk to you so badly?" Aziraphale asked, wiggling deeper into his seat as Crowley reversed the Bentley out of its parking slot."Yeah," Crowley said, a tight twist to his mouth. "Yeah, I did."
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Warlock Dowling/Adam Young
Series: Demon and Angel Professors [127]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412962
Comments: 38
Kudos: 765
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	You Told Me What You Think

**Author's Note:**

> CW for non-graphic discussion around suicide and death

"Did you find out why she wanted to talk to you so badly?" Aziraphale asked, wiggling deeper into his seat as Crowley reversed the Bentley out of its parking slot.

"Yeah," Crowley said, a tight twist to his mouth. "Yeah, I did." He turned his head to look out the back window, and for once, he didn't have a slight smile for Adam and Warlock in the back seat.

"And?" Aziraphale prompted.

"Do we have to go into it now?" Crowley asked plaintively. "In the car?"

Aziraphale looked over at Crowley and his face went from pleased to serious in an eyeblink. "The gist, at least, please, Crowley."

"You won't like it." Crowley sighed, pulled out into the road and put his foot down. "We talked about making tea, angel. About when to do it the slow way, with fresh water in the kettle and - when to use a thermos."

"Oh." Aziraphale was silent for a long moment before he continued, "I hope you told them..."

"To do it the slow way? _Yes_ , angel." Crowley was silent for a moment himself, unusually focused on the road. "What do you take me for?"

In the back, Adam looked at Warlock for an explanation, sure that he was missing something, because while on the surface it seemed like as well-worn and trivial as any of the arguments they'd rolled out in front of the students, there was also an undercurrent he couldn't make out. Some sense that this tea-making was a life-and-death matter. Warlock, for once, looked just as puzzled as Adam was.

Aziraphale said softly, his voice almost aching, "I haven't changed my mind, you know."

"I know," Crowley echoed. "You told me what you think. I haven't forgotten." He took a long breath and glanced back at Warlock and Adam. "Where would you two like to be dropped off?"

Warlock said, "Home, please," and the odd tension in the car suddenly deflated.

"Home it is then," Crowley replied. "We can fraternise across subjects some other time."

Aziraphale winced and stayed silent.

Crowley's mouth twitched in something that was more than half an apology. He shoved a CD into the player and Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy played for the rest of the journey.

Once they'd been dropped off and the Bentley had vanished again, Adam looked over at Warlock. "What _was_ that? It didn't sound like one of their play-fights, not really."

Warlock frowned. "I think," they said, "that was a real fight. I haven't seen them that way, but I've seen them hurting, and they were definitely hurting by the end. Just hiding it well."

* * *

Crowley broke the silence once he and Aziraphale were in the flat. "Hold me, angel?"

Aziraphale gave him a long, apologetic look, and then drew him down onto the old sofa and into his angel's arms. "I shouldn't have pressed, should I?"

"Mm." Crowley ducked his head down so he could rest his forehead on Aziraphale's shoulder without his dark glasses digging into his face.

"Was it very bad?"

"Not 'xactly. Gave her what I could. Don't know if it was enough. Prob'ly never know if it was enough. It's up to her now..."

Aziraphale's arms wound tighter around him, and Crowley clung back for a long moment, as if reassuring himself that Aziraphale was still there.

"I've got you, dearest demon mine."

Crowley let out a long breath, hissing through his teeth. "I wouldn't go. Not while you're here. I just-"

"You give them wings and warnings and let them fly, I know. We both do, you more than I."

"Yeah, and some of them still do an Icarus and some just never come back."

"And the results are the same. We have to hope for the latter." Aziraphale rubbed a gentle hand up and down Crowley's back.

"There are days," Crowley admitted, lifting his head at last, "when I wish I had your optimism. But I don't. So. What do you want to do about dinner, angel of mine?"


End file.
